


The Adventure Of The Second Key (1901)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [193]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Army, Betrayal, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Framing Story, Gay Sex, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Secrets, Traumatized Sam, Treason, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: A 'retired' colonel stands accused of yielding to blackmail and betraying his country – can Sherlock clear his name, and find the person behind the accusations?





	The Adventure Of The Second Key (1901)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessgolux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessgolux/gifts).



> Mentioned elsewhere as 'the blackmailing one of the most revered names in England'.

One of the questions that my readers sometimes asked me was as to why, with my being so close to a detective (indeed!) and my brother being a lawyer, were there no cases when I invoked Sherlock's great abilities to help out Sammy? The answer is partly in the fact that my brother's very profession meant that the people who approached him were naturally disinclined to use a consulting detective in the first place, and upon looking through my records I find that Sherlock only helped him out on some seven separate occasions. Five of those were either of no great import or involved people who have requested that the details not to be made public, but two – by a curious coincidence, the two from that first year of the new century – can now be added to this final “Elementary”. I am indebted to Colonel Peter Farridge, eldest son of the gentleman involved in this case, for permission to publish this story.

I had known that Sammy was involved in a major case that year, as most unusually he had been compelled to move temporarily down to London, his firm having been 'co-opted' as the case involved an element of Scots law. Of course I did not ask what it was about; those details were between him and his clients. However, his decision to involve us (Sherlock) in the case led to an unusual outcome that, in the circumstances, was possibly the best that could have been achieved for almost everyone. 

Except, it might be said, Sammy himself.

The (Second) Boer War, although still ongoing at this time, had moved from the full-scale battle stage to a situation where the Boers were resorting to guerrilla warfare, something their lands were well suited to. The British government, more through incompetence that any evil intent, had interned many Boers in prison camps, where the conditions were truly terrible. News of their sufferings reached one Miss Emily Hobhouse in England, and she determined to not only raise money for them but to go out there to see how things were for herself. The British Army, with years of experience in recognizing trouble when they saw it, tried to stop her, but her cousin, Colonel Nigel Farridge, happened to be one of the officers out there, and he helped her first reach the Cape and to then see many of the camps.

Naturally the Army was not pleased, but they could not stop the determined woman. However, when Colonel Farridge sustained a slight injury, they immediately invalided him out of the service and returned him to England. There was even talk of him being cashiered out of the service on some flimsy pretext, but someone leaked the story to the newspapers, and the public reaction was one of absolute fury. The Army effected the sort of retreat normally reserved for when they faced a few hundred thousand Zulu warriors (or Miss Emily Hobhouse), and Colonel Farridge was given the job that he had at the time of this story. 

I should add there was a suggestion – although it was never proven – that certain top officials in the Army were behind the person truly responsible for the crime involved. I do know that Sherlock subsequently 'had a word' with his brother Bacchus that such happenings really should not happen again. Or else. Like with Miss Hobhouse and the few hundred thousand Zulu warriors, even the largest and most self-serving organizations knows that there are some enemies before which retreat is most definitely the best (if not the only) option.

+~+~+

My moose of a brother stood up, looking even taller in those smart clothes and dreadful wig. I wondered idly if I might get a chance to put itching-powder in the latter, only for some tousle-headed bastard of a mind-reader to prod me and shake his head. Damnation, I had no fun!

Maybe later....

“Please state your full name and current employment, for the record.”

The man at the witness stand was in military uniform, blond, about thirty years of age, and looked very pale.

“Lieutenant Thomas Edward Wylam, of the 3rd Chilterns Regiment, sir.”

“Are you currently on active service?” 

“Not militarily, sir”, the man said smartly. “I was invalided out five years ago – the Sudan - after a shell burst close by the camp where I had been stationed, and I lost fifty per cent of the vision in my left eye. My then commanding officer, Colonel Justinian, secured me a position working for the War Office, transporting official documents.”

“Please explain to the court how this 'transportation' takes place”, Sammy said.

“The British Army often wishes to know the thoughts of its retired and elder colonels on certain matters”, Lieutenant Wylam explained. “My jib is to courier certain documents to these gentlemen's houses, and then to bring them back. I take documents to the homes of a number of gentlemen, including Colonel Farridge whose house is in Mayfair."

“Could not these documents just be posted, or sent by a courier service?” Sammy asked.

“I presumed that they were too important to be”, the lieutenant said. “I am not, of course, ever allowed to read them nor would I wish to. When I am called for, I am given a brief-case with a combination lock on it. I was once told that it was set so that there were one thousand possible combinations, and an incorrect one would jam the mechanism, whereon it could then only be unlocked by a special key kept in the Office. I assumed that the correct combination was known to each recipient in order for him to open it. Transportation, not security arrangements, are my primary concern.”

Sammy turned to the judge.

“I am restricted as to what I can say because of national security”, he said, “but the prosecution and I have agreed that although the lieutenant took documents to some four different people, only Colonel Farridge received the ones pertinent to this case.”

“Quite”, the judge said. He looked about a hundred and five, I thought. “Pray proceed, Mr. Watson.”

Sammy turned back to the lieutenant.

“When you arrive at Colonel Farridge's Mayfair house, what usually happens?” he asked.

“I should have made clear that the suitcase is also handcuffed to me, sir”, the lieutenant said apologetically. “The colonel has the key to unlock the cuffs. A footman shows me straight to his study, and I wait for him there. He unlocks the cuffs, and I then wait outside whilst he opens the case. That way, I do not see the combination.”

“Most proper. And then?”

“He checks the documents to see what they are, then calls me in and thanks me”, the lieutenant said. “One of two thing then happens. If he wishes to spend only a short time on what I have brought, he sends me downstairs for some refreshment; usually for no longer than half an hour. If on the other hand he wishes for longer with the documents, he tells me how long he will need to read through and respond to them, and we fix a date for my return. When we are finished, he secures the empty case to me, and I return to the War Office.”

“You do not leave the empty case with him?” my brother asked.

“No, sir.”

“So there is no way for anyone to gain access to those documents in between the War Office and the Colonel's house?” Sammy asked.

The lieutenant looked unhappy, but nodded.

“That is correct, sir.”

“Thank you.”

+~+~+

The prosecution lawyer, a nasty piece of work called Mr. Osborne, wasted everyone's time by asking much the same questions, to the evident annoyance of the judge. Next up was a servant of some sort, by name of Mr. Peter St. John.

“You are the valet to Colonel Farridge?”

“I am, sir.”

“For how long have you been in that post?”

“For the past three years, sir.”

“Do you ever attend the colonel in his study?”

“ _No_ , sir!” the valet said forcibly. I was surprised at his vehemence.

“Why not?” Sammy asked.

The study is where the master attends to his Private Matters, sir”, the valet said, clearly enunciating the capital letters. “The master may of course ring for me if he needs me, but he never has, during my service. There was one time last year, when he chanced to meet me at the door and passed me a message that he needed to have sent; he usually summons a footman for that. I did not however enter the room on that occasion.”

“Does _anyone_ enter the room, apart from the maid?” Sammy asked.

“The colonel will not even allow the maid in there, sir”, the butler said. “He cleans it himself.”

“That is unusual”, Sammy said. “Tell me, what rooms lie either side of the study?”

“The room is in a corner position, sir”, the valet said. “The library adjoins it to the west, and the smoking-room to the north. Neither is used in the house to any great extent, which allows the master to have his peace and quiet. The doors through to both are locked, and only the master has the keys.”

“Peace and quiet are things that we should all value”, Sammy smiled. “Thank you.”

+~+~+

“You are Mrs. Genevieve Farridge?”

The middle-aged lady at the stand looked, I thought, the archetypal military wife. She had something of her accused husband's military bearing, but was clearly worried.

“I am”, she said, her fingers tapping nervously on the dock.

“Mrs. Farridge”, Sammy said, “I think that I only have one question for you at this point, although I may need to ask you some more later. Do you have a key to your husband's study?”

She shook her head. 

“Nigel insists that he alone has access to that room”, she said, “which is where he attends to military matters. He smokes his cigars in there, which I do not like.”

“Does he not take them into the smoking-room next door?” Sammy asked, surprised.

“No”, she said. “That room is quite cold, and he prefers to stay in his study. Those cigars are quite dreadful; I will not allow him to smoke them anywhere else in the house!”

I was just privately thinking 'whipped' when I saw Sherlock eying me. I gulped.

“But what if he loses his keys?” Sammy asked.

“I recall he once said that a friend has a spare set”, she said. “I do not know which friend; we have several military acquaintances in the area. Or it may be someone at the Office.”

“Thank you”, Sammy smiled.

+~+~+

There were gasps of shock when the next witness took the stand, and even the elderly judge effected a sharp raising of his eyebrows. It was not so much the bright orange mechanic's overalls as who was wearing them. 

“Miss Charlotta Bradbury”, Sammy smiled. “Please state your occupation.”

“I work as a secretary for Middleton's, a private information agency”, she said. 

That was stretching the truth a bit for someone who had just sworn on the Good Book, I thought. Miss Bradbury _was_ Middleton's.

“Please tell the court what happened three weeks ago to this day.”

“My friend and acquaintance, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, asked me to assist on the alleged blackmailing of Colonel Nigel Farridge by one Miss Ruby Diamond”, she said. “He entertained a certain idea about this lady, but needed information to back up his hypothesis.”

“Objection!” Mr. Osborne shouted, rising to his feet.

“Over-ruled”, the judge said dryly. “Carry on, Mr. Watson.”

“What did you tell Mr. Holmes?” Sammy asked.

“I was able to provide a list of dates and times when Miss Diamond was seen coming and going from her London house”, Miss Bradbury said. “I was also asked to provide information about the movements of a certain other person, in whom Mr. Holmes was interested. He believed that a pattern would emerge as a result and, being him, he was of course correct.”

“Show-off!” I muttered. Sherlock sniggered softly.

“Thank you, Miss Bradbury.”

+~+~+

The nasal prosecution lawyer tried to cross-examine Miss Bradbury, but he most definitely came off worse. Next up was a large lady who barely fitted into the dock. Sammy shuffled his notes.

“Mrs. Quarley, you are the housekeeper at Colonel Farridge's London house?”

I thought that this lady might be a decent witness, but then she caught sight of Sherlock and, of course, simpered at him. Minus ten points straight away! 

Sammy coughed to regain her attention.

“Apart from servants, who lives at the house?”

“Colonel Farridge, Mrs. Farridge, their youngest son Mr. Daniel and their daughter Miss Penelope, sir”, the housekeeper said. “The three eldest sons have all married and moved out, and Miss Penelope is away at school just now.”

“I see that the boys are all serving our Empire overseas”, Sammy said. “I would like to ask you about the events of Friday April the twelfth, one week after Good Friday; it was the day that the city had that unexpectedly heavy snowfall. I believe that Lieutenant Wylam came to the house?”

“He did, sir. To see the master.”

“Please tell us in your own words what happened.”

“The gentleman arrived at ten o'clock, sir, just as the maids were changing over. I was downstairs of course, but sometimes, the master wants to look over the things brought to him and, I suppose, send an immediate reply back through the lieutenant.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not often, sir. But it did this time.”

“How did you know this if you were downstairs?” Sammy asked.

“When it happens, the colonel sends the lieutenant down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of cake”, she explained. “He is very good like that. The lieutenant was with me for about twenty minutes that day, which was much as usual, then the colonel sent Edwards down for him to come back.”

“Thank you, madam.”

+~+~+

Inspector Baldur's impressive form stood tall in the witness-stand. I was quietly pleased that some of the ladies in the public gallery simpered at him, too. He obviously caught them doing it, and blushed. 

“Please tell us what you know about a Miss Ruby Diamond”, Sammy said.

“Very little, sir”, the inspector admitted. “We think that she arrived in the capital about a year ago, and that she may be involved in some form of blackmail. Possibly even espionage.”

“But you have no proof as to that?”

“No, sir. She does not even keep her own staff, employing servants from an agency and never keeping them for more than a few days at a time. She is often out of town, and it is believed that she may have come originally from the United States, but otherwise we know little of her. Except that, when we went to question her over the blackmailing letters sent to Colonel Farridge.....”

The nasal prosecution lawyer interrupted.

“Allegedly sent!” he insisted. The judge scowled mightily at him.

“Mr. Osborne”, he said heavily, “you will of course be granted the chance to question this witness. But _I do not like it_ when counsel start interrupting each other's conversations, as it delays both the proceedings _and my dinner_. Kindly refrain!”

The prosecution lawyer sank back. I smiled to myself.

“When we went to question Miss Diamond”, the inspector continued, “she had left the house, apparently for good as it was up for sale. We have made an effort to find her, but so far we have not succeeded.”

+~+~+

The unpleasant prosecution lawyer made quite plain that he considered the blackmail letters to have been written by the colonel or an associate to cover his alleged selling of secrets to a Foreign Power, but he could not get anything out of the inspector. Next up was the colonel's youngest son Daniel, an unprepossessing blond youth of about seventeen years of age.

“Mr. Farridge”, Sammy smiled, and I knew instinctively that he had something on the boy. “Do you happen to know a lady called Miss Angela Bruce?”

The boy went pale.

“Um, maybe?” he offered weakly.

“Either you know the lady or you do not!” Sammy snapped. _“Do you know her?”_

The young man seemed to be finding the floor in the witness-stand quite fascinating.

“Yes, sir”, he said miserably.

“Miss Bruce is a maid at Tolworth House, the London home of the War Office minister Lord Ewell”, Sammy explained to the judge. “And Lord Ewell happens to be the very friend with whom Colonel Farridge has deposited his sole set of spare keys. Now, young sir, I have to say that it is stretching the mathematical laws of probability not just that someone in your position should be seeing a maid but, by an _incredible_ alignment of the Fates, that it should be a maid at the house of the one person with a key to the study from which the papers may have been taken....”

I saw Mr. Osborne rising to his feet to object again, but the judge gave him such a scowl that he subsided without speaking. Sammy stared hard at the young man, who seemed to shrink back before him.

“I swear that I have never been inside her house!” he said quickly.

“But you did discover that Lord Ewell had the spare key set?” Sammy pressed. The young man gulped, and nodded.

“Please speak for the record”, the judge pressed him.

“Yes, sir. I knew.” 

I almost felt sorry for him. Sammy leant forward.

_“To whom did you impart this knowledge?”_

__

__

+~+~+

It was damnably unfair of Sherlock to take the witness-stand like that, not looking like someone who had been thoroughly ravished in a small side-room of London's major court. It had been totally his own fault; he knew what wearing that blue waistcoat did to my limited (as in non-existent) self-control when presented with six foot of angelic gorgeousness! And to add to my woes, virtually every female in the public gallery – and even the damn court secretary, who was sixty if she was a day – were all simpering at him! I seethed in silence.

“Thank you for coming today, Mr. Holmes”, Sammy smiled. “I would like you to tell us about your recent investigation into a Miss Ruby Diamond.”

“I was asked to investigate the truth, or not, of allegations that Colonel Nigel Farridge had used his position to sell government secrets to a Foreign Power”, Sherlock said. 

“Who asked you?” Sammy pressed at once. “Miss Bradbury?”

Sherlock smiled.

“As I am sure you yourself so often do, Mr. Watson, I must decline to answer that question on the grounds of client confidentiality. I will say, however, that it was I who approached Miss Bradbury for assistance in this case, and that my initial inquiries suggested that a certain Foreign Power that is increasingly hostile towards the Empire had indeed acquired information of late, of the sort that His Majesty's Government would most definitely _not_ wish it to be in possession of.”

“And it was suggested to you that Colonel Farridge had been blackmailed into selling this information, that act being perpetrated by one Miss Ruby Diamond.”

“It was.”

“Did your investigations confirm that supposition?”

“Yes and no.”

There was a puzzled silence in the court.

“Mr. Holmes”, the judge said slowly, “either Miss Diamond _did_ blackmail the colonel, or she _did not_. Which was it?”

“That is a difficult question to answer, my lord”, Sherlock said, “bearing in mind that I have sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Initially I was inclined to think that Miss Diamond had indeed blackmailed the colonel. My investigations, however, showed there to be a not insignificant problem with that hypothesis. To wit, 'Miss Diamond' did not exist.”

This time the silence was a shocked one.

“What are you saying?” the judge asked.

“What struck me about this case”, Sherlock said, “was the _lack_ of possibilities. In many of my cases, there are any number of possible outcomes at the start, and I have to remove the false ones until I am left with the correct one. As my friend Doctor Watson correctly reports me as often saying; once one has eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Clearly the information was reaching the hostile Foreign Power; there was no doubt about that. I was fortunate in that I have certain government contacts, so I was able to confirm as to what that information was. I cannot of course go into details, but I satisfied myself that the documents sent between the War Office and Colonel Farridge were indeed the ones being leaked. But by whom?”

“I first considered Lieutenant Wylam, but the security measures made it impossible for him to intercept the messages in any way. The War Office timed his departure from their building and the colonel always recorded the time of his arrival in his own diary. I took the precaution of arranging for a young friend of mine who matched the lieutenant in age and physicality to undertake the same journey, and there was no lost time to account for, let alone the fact that the lieutenant had no way of opening the case. So that meant that the theft had to be happening _inside_ the colonel's house.”

“I next considered young Mr. Farridge, especially given his seeing a maid at the house of the one person with his father's spare key set. That seemed, as has been said, an unlikely coincidence. But I have a strong understanding of a man's character and, for all his failings, Mr. Farridge shares his father's patriotism. He would not betray his country. Yet someone in that house did.”

Sherlock paused.

“The key to my understanding this case was in a question that I originally posed to young Mr. Farridge a short while back. This was one of those instances when the information was, quite literally, hidden in plain sight. His original answer to me was that he had told no-one about Miss Bruce, but when pressed, he added the rider, 'only my parents'.”

“I developed an alternative hypothesis, based on someone else. Miss Bradbury was essential to my investigations, and as she said, she provided me with a timeline of two things; the comings and goings of Miss Diamond at her house – _and the comings and goings of Mrs. Genevieve Farridge at hers.”_

There was an audible gasp, and I was not the only person to turn their gaze onto the very empty seat behind the colonel. Sherlock smiled.

“I alerted Inspector Baldur to wait outside the court”, he said. “Mrs. Farridge told her husband that she needed to return home for some reason, but would be back for this session. Instead she went home, packed a bag with her jewellery and as much money as she could lay her hands on, and ordered a cab to take her down to the docks. Doubtless she was more than a little surprised to get into that cab and find the inspector waiting for her!”

“Silence in court!” the judge called, as a babble of excited voices broke out. Sherlock waited for calm before continuing.

“Young Mr. Farridge was innocent of any intent, but when he told his mother about his seeing the maid of the friend who held the keys, she saw her opportunity. We were told that the colonel kept his own keys on him at all times – so obviously, the only time that he would not be in possession of it was when he was in bed with his lady wife, and the keys would be in or on his bedside cabinet. She obtained a copy, and then set about enriching herself by selling the country's secrets to our enemies. Naturally it could not be for long, but she planned to pin the blame on her husband who, it seemed, was the only person with access to the documents.”

I noticed how Colonel Farridge had gone pale. I felt dreadfully sorry for him.

“She creates the fake persona of 'Miss Ruby Diamond'”, Sherlock continued, “and spends some of her ill-gotten gains hiring a house and servants to create London's new blackmailer-in-chief. However, the list of her and Miss Diamond's public appearances show that they were in truth one and the same person. There is also the signature that she used to obtain the servants; a fake one, but the actual handwriting is identical.”

“As she foresaw would happen, the British government eventually realizes that there is a leak, so she makes 'Miss Diamond' disappear into thin air, leaving her husband to shoulder all the blame. She will be able to live comfortably off his money, because everyone will feel sorry for the 'poor, betrayed widow' – who, most assuredly, would have sought out a ship headed for a certain hostile Foreign Power had she made the docks today.”

I smiled. My man was so smart.

+~+~+

Colonel Farridge was, of course, found innocent, and his wife paid the ultimate and correct price for her crimes. I would like to say that helping out my little brother was a wonderful experience all round, but unfortunately, it did not quite work out that way.

+~+~+

I groaned as Sherlock thrust into me for Lord alone knew what number of times. Hell, the man was only two and a bit years younger than me, and yet when he had come home and donned the Waistcoat And Glasses, the day was only going to proceed one way. How on earth did he have the stamina to pin my legs back and keep going and going and.....

Without warning, our door burst open.

“Hullo, John”, came my brother's cheerful voice. “I just wanted to oh my Lord above!”

I do not think that I had ever seen my brother move so fast in his entire life. We could still hear the keening sound as he all but fell down the stairs, and the eventual bang of the front door as he made it to the safety of the street.

“We need to get a door that locks automatically”, Sherlock said absent-mindedly.

My little brother had just seen me like this, and he was worried about hardware purchases? I opened my mouth to complain, but he raised me just high enough to catch my prostate, and my objections died a death. 

I would send Sammy an apology letter. Some time. Maybe.

+~+~+

In our next case, the devil went down to Sussex.


End file.
